Loaded Forbears: A Tale of Two Demon Hunters
by Phalanx
Summary: After Valla leaves in search of the falling star, Josen dispatches another master demon hunter to New Tristram as her backup. Team Demon Hunter now consists of one headstrong, emotional and overconfident demon-huntress , and one eccentric, explosive-obsessed demon hunter with an affinity for collateral damage. Poor New Tristram might have been better off with just the undead.
1. Tinkerer

_**A/N:**__ This fanfiction is based on the official Demon Hunter short story 'Hatred and Discipline', which was made available on the Blizzard website at us. battle d3 /en/game /lore/short-story /demon-hunter/ (remove the spaces) and from which the characters of Josen and Valla are taken from. _

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**Loaded Forbears**

_A series of vignettes about two demon hunters, in which there will be innumerable inside jokes and horrendous puns because I cannot help myself._

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-1-

**Tinkerer**

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Vrom did not look amused.

He was in actuality every bit as unamused as he looked, which went well with the approved standard-issue 'grim and sorrowful' expression the famed demon hunters of the Dreadlands were expected to adopt.

As for why he was not amused?

The veteran hunter in question had just been told he was going to be sent as backup to a novice hunter, who had apparently scuttled off on a self-imposed mission on the completion of her first solo hunt.

"I am _not_ a babysitter, Josen."

Vrom scowled at his former mentor as he growled out the sentence. A firm believer in discipline, Vrom hadn't been shy about voicing his opinion on how a young apprentice hunter who had yet to master the shadow aspect of demon hunting had no business going off on her own on a one-man— or in this case, one-woman crusade.

"If Valla wants to go rocketing off to New Tristram in pursuit of some dazzling star or other—"

"Falling star," Josen corrected, infuriatingly unmoved by Vrom's vehement protests.

Unfortunately, his vehemence had no effect on Josen.

"Fine, _falling_ star. As I was saying, I do not see the need to provide Valla with any reinforcement, particularly since she just vaulted off on her own without your consent. And without so much as a 'Bye Master Vrom, thanks for making all those bombs I used to save my life time after time again!' too," he added as a sullen afterthought.

Outwardly, Josen made no sign of emotion, but inwardly he sighed. Master Demon Hunter Vrom had always been considered something of a touchy oddball, even among the ranks of mentally-scarred demon hunters. The other demon hunters had learned quickly to tip-toe around his mercurial moods, which were as volatile as the explosive weaponry he created for the demon hunter organisation. However, they all put up with it because when it came to inventing and tinkering with bombs and traps, Vrom was without equal.

Fortunately, Master Hunter Josen had the mental fortitude of a rock and a slyness to equal the Prime Evils themselves. It was all part of the job requirement; his unyielding and unwavering insistence in getting his own way certainly was helpful when dealing with a bunch of emotionally-unstable, revenge-obsessed, trigger-happy people with dangerous projectile weaponry.

Anyway, the important thing here was, when Master Josen wanted something, he got it.

"Vrom," Josen repeated, with the trained patience of a true hunter, "there are undead rising in the town of Tristram. By all accounts, most of the people there have perished. The remaining survivors are desperate for any kind of help, and we should send someone to their aid."

"Well, Valla's already gone, hasn't she? This falling star business does not interest me. I have made plans to go to Caldeum, there is a merchant who managed to get his hands on a partially working Horadric construct that—"

"Did I mention there are lots of lots of undead and probably demons rampaging around in Tristram? Which you will be allowed to blow up with impunity and after which no one will complain?"

Vrom stopped his ranting and a gleam appeared in his eye. The only thing he liked more than working on his incredibly collateral damage-causing inventions was testing them out.

"It is imperative that we investigate the cause of the demonic disturbance there," Josen continued smoothly, sensing that his quarry had spotted the bait and was considering if it was worth taking. "My instinct tells me it could be something important and I would feel better if we had another, more experienced master hunter looking into it. You're the one I trust most to do this. Just keep an eye on Valla while you are there... I would prefer not to lose another promising young hunter to demonic corruption."

There was a sly look on Josen's face as his colleague snorted at the use of 'promising' to describe Valla. But Vrom had also remained silent and was actually listening.

Josen patiently waited for the response. He had trained Vrom after all, and he knew his former student extremely well. He could almost see the wheels turning in the tinkerer's mind, much like the the workings of the lethal contraptions for which Vrom was so well-known.

"Very well. If you insist, Master Josen," Vrom said 'grudgingly' at last.

The quarry had taken the bait and was being reeled in, willingly.

Of course, Vrom had still tried to sound stiff and cross as if he was only doing this as a favour to his senior. But it was just token resistance, it wouldn't do to display his newfound eagerness for the same mission he had previously scorned. Vrom's pride as a master hunter wouldn't allow him to simply admit he had been successfully manipulated by his former teacher. It was all part of the game they played.

But Josen smiled. Vrom would be going to Tristram. All would be well.

Sort of.

True, there probably wouldn't be any demonic corruption left in Tristram once Vrom was done with the place, but there was also a very real possibility it would be because Tristram had been blasted off the face of Sanctuary.

Josen shrugged.

Ah well... risks were risks after all.

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_**Note from Phalanx:**__ This is an old piece from last year I found in my folders while working on some of my other current fics. I don't think I've ever posted any of the stuff I've written for Diablo before. I figure I might as well put what I did have up since it's already written. _

_This isn't meant to be a serious story, more of a humourous take at contrast between the gritty lore of Diablo III vs gaming reality. _


	2. Preparation

**Loaded Forbears**

_A series of vignettes about two demon hunters, in which inside jokes about developer changes, obsolete names and unfortunate colour randomisation abound._

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-2-

**Preparation**

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"I cannot believe Josen sent you after me. Does he not trust my skill and instincts?"

"No he doesn't." Vrom had never been known for being agreeable or tactful.

Displeased, Valla goaded her mare into a fast trot, while Vrom's covered wagon, filled with his tools and supplies, rattled behind.

"And I do not see how you were able to catch up with me with that cumbersome wagon of yours, too. I had a head start— how did you manage it?"

"I've been hunting these lands almost a decade before you killed your first demon, girl. I know every shortcut like the back of my hand. That, and pacing your steed at a light canter instead of tiring it out by galloping in the beginning would have helped, too.

"Also, this is no ordinary wagon. I modified it. The bearings in the axle ensure smooth rotation and the special resin-coating on the wheels means optimal friction with the road surface, which reduces the amount of drag and allows the horses to pull the cart with a fraction of the force needed for a normal cart. This in turn translates to unprecedented chariot-like speed from the wagon as long as road conditions remain good and the horses are fresh..."

Vrom stopped himself when he realised that Valla's eyes had glazed over in boredom. Insulted, he lapsed into a sullen silence. The girl had obviously no appreciation for the absolute mastery he had of his craft.

They made for an odd pair as they rode on without exchanging further conversation: Valla, a beautiful young girl sensibly garbed in dark leather, and then following behind, like a fashion sense-deprived wagon-driver, you had well... Vrom.

Valla was quite beautiful with her dark hair and pale skin that had miraculously survived unscarred through her demon-hunter training. Her stern expression (what could be seen of it under her hood), form-fitting leather garb, light armour and crossbows she carried on her person ensured that no one sensible who saw her would think it would be a good idea to accost her, pretty or not.

Contrasting starkly against her was the spectacle that was Vrom. Unlike Valla, he kept his own dark (and eternally uncombed-looking) hair uncovered, and was clad in a flowing, high-collared, garish red cloak with obnoxiously bright gold trim. It clashed horribly with his armor, which was tinted a dull silvery blue. Well, most of it, anyway. His mismatching shoulderpads were dyed a lurid green, and his boots were a colour that could be only politely described as 'hot pink'.

It had been speculated in the demon hunter circles that Master Vrom was very likely colourblind. Certainly his choice of colour did not lend itself well to stealth.

The most arresting addition to his outfit however, was the oversized gilded gauntlet he wore on his left hand. Perplexingly this very imposing piece of armor was mismatched with a comparatively simple fingerless glove on his right hand.

Most people would have found the overall effect of the man's bizarre ensemble almost comical, but in the demon hunter organisation, no one laughed at Vrom. He had a reputation for a reason more than his temper and they knew better. Well that, and they didn't like having to make their own bombs and rockets, and the heavens knew that that would be your fate if you dared to cross the man by asking about the way he dressed.

This treatment however, did not extend to Khanduras and the towns on their way to Tristram. A group of desperate bandits, shaking with laughter at Vrom's appearance, attempted to waylay them, thinking the dozen men they had on their side would be enough to overpower the eccentric and girl.

Valla took out the first three with her bow while Vrom casually tossed a grenade in the direction of another two. Mercifully, they were in the open and the grenade turned out to be the type that expelled a poison gas all demon hunters had been required to build up an immunity to. The only thing that could be said about those two bandits after that was that they died laughing. Three more on the other hand, were killed by Vrom's sentry traps when they attempted to jump him from the back of his wagon.

"Idiots," was Vrom's contributing commentary as they fell to the ground. "Of course I booby-trapped my own wagon."

The remaining four, seeing their comrades slaughtered, aborted their attack and fled for the woods.

Valla considered shooting them as they ran away, but decided against it. They were brigands, but there had been no trace of demonic taint, so they were not true prey.

The same thing appeared to be on Vrom's mind, and he indicated as much after the checking and despoiling of the bodies. He burned the corpses anyway, using some sort of strange incendiary concoction he kept in his wagon supplies. With the talk of undead rising there was no sense in taking chances.

They spent the night camping in a field. Valla would have been content to rest with her crossbow in hand and one eye open, but Vrom had been most fastidious about setting up the perimeter.

"You put out spike traps?" she asked when he returned, looking rather pleased with himself. "There are villages in this area, what if someone accidentally stumbles into one?"

"As long as they do not bear demonic taint, the traps won't go off," Vrom said in a tone that made Valla suspect he actually did hope they would go off. "And they are called Spite Traps, not Spike Traps."

"Every demon hunter I know calls them Spike Traps."

"Well, I'll have you know I was the one who refined them from their original form, and they were called Spite Traps, but a certain individual wrote the wrong word on the plans and the name stuck. Spike traps? Do you see any spikes on them? No, they're clearly proximity mines! They trigger on detecting demonic spite, so of course they should be called Spite Traps! Damn that Greyscarr and his horrible handwriting!"

Valla briefly wondered if sending cantankerous Vrom along on this trip had been Master Josen's way of punishing her for her earlier disobedience.

But with the knowledge that the perimeter had been secured, Valla relaxed a little and slept less lightly than she normally did. Which was also why the earth-shaking rumble of the first spike trap detonating shocking her awake unnerved her more that it should have.

"Vrom!" she called out, snatching up her crossbow. She could see figures moving in the darkness at the edge of the woods bordering the field. Some human-sized. Others, far too big. But what was unmistakable was their silhouettes: twin horns on head and legs bent awkwardly back—

"Khazra…?" was all Valla managed to blurt out in confusion as the demons began their charge.

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_**Phalanx:**__ Incidentally, whenever my male demon hunter in D3 got a usable drop, it would inevitably turn out to be coloured hot pink when equipped. Needless to say, the dye vendor made a lot of money off him._


End file.
